Immaculate Conception
by vni64
Summary: “Mr DuGrey...Tristan. When a person craves someone or something substantially, the mind can play tricks, it must be hard for you...” Could Tristan make up something so real? A confusing montage based on self discovery. Main characters inc. Jess. Dark AU.
1. Default Chapter

**Immaculate Conception**

Tristan sat on the edge of the large black chair, his usually bright eyes were ice cold and his stomach was churning repulsively. What's going on? What the hell is going on? Never in his life had Tristan DuGrey felt so confused, so lost as he did now. Everything seemed unreal, fake. Swallowing hard he ran his fingers through his already tousled hair, trying to comprehend what the man in front of him had said, and was continuing to say. None of it made sense. None of the crap the guy was spewing made any sense. Ignoring his urge to hurl something at the person in front of him, Tristan did something that took guts, he forced himself to listen.

'Mr DuGrey…Tristan. When someone craves someone or something substantially the mind can play tricks, it must be hard for you. Your parents aren't around much because they usually have business to attend to, and when they are around all they do is lecture and pressure you…Am I right?'

Tristan reluctantly nodded his head indicating that he was right. The man shifted in his seat obviously pleased they were finally making progress; he adjusted his glasses and neatened the files on the pine wood desk in front of him before continuing.

'And not only that, you have to constantly live up to a certain reputation at school…from what I've read you're quite popular amongst your fellow peers' he said smiling humourlessly, trying to lighten the situation. Tristan didn't respond.

_Life's been sucked out of me  
And this routine's killing me  
I did it to myself, I did it to myself, I said it would not be  
Somebody put me out of my misery  
Expression, stimulation hallow sense of myself  
I did it to myself again  
Somebody put me in my place_

'What I am trying to say is that you have nothing to be ashamed of, and now that you have come to terms with the fact that this girl, 'Mary' isn't real but something your mind conjured up, you can get back to living your life…'

_Never enough never enough  
Do I deserve what I got_

Tristan couldn't take it any more. What the fuck is going on? He flew up from his chair his eyes scorching.

'Bullshit. This is all fucking bullshit' Tristan shouted, making the psychiatrist jump. 'You're nothing but a liar, why did my father put you up to this? What the fuck is this really about'

'Mr DuGrey, calm down' he said standing up obviously shaken by his outburst.

'Don't tell me to fucking calm down. I'm not crazy. Why the hell are you making me out to be some sort of whack job? Is this his way of getting back at me?' He said his voice still jarring. He was talking more to himself than to the doctor. He didn't get this any of it. It was all totally absurd. He didn't make up Rory Gilmore. Sure he made up some fantasies about her, usually not wearing much, but she was real. Realer than real. He couldn't think for a second that she wasn't.

'I know this is hard to accept Mr DuGrey, but I'm sure in time it will get easier, but the truth is this girl is not real. I'm sorry, but she just isn't. You needed something to concentrate on, something to take you away from all the stress and pressure of reality. She provided that.'

Tristan laughed incredulously, his temper rising slightly.

'You need to get this through your thick skull. Lorelai Gilmore is real, and if you don't think so, fuck you. Jesus, I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you… She goes to Chilton, why don't you fucking check your records before you go accusing me of being insane.'

'Mr DuGrey, we have checked the records, do you think we're stupid. There is no one in Chilton with the name Lorelai Gilmore, or Mary or whatever the hell you want to call her.'

Tristan was floored by this. It didn't make sense. Maybe she transferred recently or… He flinched at the thought. Maybe she had an accident…

'We've asked around you're school, none of the teachers or students backed you up, none of them admitted to ever knowing this girl, even your close friend Paris.'

Tristan subconsciously undid the top buttons of his shirt feeling strangely suffocated. He was getting desperate now, he couldn't be insane. He couldn't make up her beautiful innocent and untainted face, her deep blue eyes, her chocolate coloured brown hair….the way her forehead would crinkle when she was concentrating. He couldn't have made up their one on one verbal sparring matches, the way she screamed when he pissed her off. Her insatiable love for coffee. He was in love with Rory Gilmore. She was real.

'Look I don't know who the hell you are, and frankly I don't care.' He said his voice full of brutal honesty. 'All I know is you're the one whose screwed up if you think anything your saying is true, not me' with that Tristan walked towards the door, his head spinning. He had to get to the bottom of this.

_You ask what's wrong with me and I say nothing  
Is everything OK? Is something with me  
Pushing and pulling feelings eternal  
My heart is yours I feel as if I'm running_

_(Lyrics extracted from Papa Roach- Never Enough)_

Sorry if it didn't make sense, just something I was working on...


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it.This is my first GG fic,I usually stick tofiction based on shannis and post it on invisionboards, so this is a change..Hope this part isn't too much of a let-down, sorry again, if it doesn't make sense.. Anyway on with the fic... 

Dedicated to dream-believer, I never thought I was 'favourites' worthy Thanks.

_If it can be broke than it can be fixed _

_If it can be fused than it can be split_

_It's all under control_

Tristan walked through the dark secluded halls of Chilton, it had just gone past midnight and the school was dead, lifeless. It looked different without flocks of students hustling and bustling, trying to get where they're going. He had never walked down the corridors without having to hear the meaningless chatter and shrilly laughs of others filling the air. The obscurity, the emptiness; it was almost too fucking surreal. The whole scenario was surreal. He sauntered slowly, still trying to penetrate the information he received. His head and heart were pounding in unison, as he fought to control his frustration and fury.

He needed to find something, anything to let him know she had been here. It wasn't just about her anymore, it wasn't just about Rory. It was about him too and his sanity. Or lack of it. He suddenly stopped reaching her locker. Images flooded into his head. He could picture her standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand, while trying to open the locker with the other, mumbling incoherently to it, or to herself. He ran his hand along the locker while taking in a deep breath hoping to god that he would be able to smell the faint fragrance of her perfume. No such fucking luck. It was hopeless. Moving onto the job at hand he took a hard jab at the locker, momentarily ignoring the shooting pain that had spread from his fist to the rest of his arm.

The small metal door swung open revealing… nothing, it was empty. Something inside him snapped, growling in frustration he kicked the lockers hard. This was getting ridiculous.

_If it can be lost than in can be won_

_If it can be touched than in can be turned _

_All you need is time _

He suddenly froze hearing footsteps behind him, turning around he saw a figure approaching him. Fast. He couldn't make out who it was from the lack of lighting. As the figure approached he realised it was none other than Paris Gellar.

'What the hell are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you insane, Tristan? Wait, no don't answer that. It's past midnight for god sakes…' She ranted on stopping a few feet away from him.

Tristan watched her, finding solace in the fact that she was here, and she was Paris. Just Paris. Her eyes were wide, brimming with concern. Her hair had been tied messily, and strands of hair were framing her face. He wondered why she was here; maybe his so-called father had sent her. She stood there, her words trailing off, and her eyes searching his for answers.

Running a hand through his tousled hair he looked at her intently.

'What's going on Paris?' he asked his voice slightly betraying him. The blond girl continued to stare at him.

'You tell me.' She said softly.

'Did he do this? Did my father do this?' he asked desperation tainting his voice. Paris' eyes began to fill with tears, making him even more frustrated.

'Just fucking tell me what's going on here, Paris.' He shouted openly unable to control his temper any longer.

'Nothing is going on, you'll be okay, you just need to keep going to the sessions with Doctor Grant, he'll help you, Tristan, you need help' she said her voice strained.

'Help me? Help me with what? There's nothing wrong with me' he shrieked.

Paris backed away a step, frightened by his outburst, and his blatant confusion.

Tristan sighed, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere. It seemed as though chunks of his memory had been extracted from him, something was missing.

'Just tell me one thing Paris, tell me she's real, Rory Gilmore, tell me she isn't a figment of my imagination…' he looked at her, his usually hard exterior cracking. 'I need this; I just need this so fucking much' Paris had tears falling freely down her cheeks now.

'You knew her, you know her Paris, and you don't like her' he said laughing sardonically. 'You never said so but you were jealous of her, she had as much determination as you, maybe even more, and you resented her for that…'

'She's not real' she screamed. Tristan continued talking.

'Is that why you're doing this, because I swear to god if….' He continued.

'I am not doing anything, you are, you're hurting yourself' she said 'Why are you hurting yourself?' she said her voice breaking.

Losing it, Tristan placed both hands on her shoulders slowly backing her against the cold lockers, almost menacingly. Paris' eyes were wide with fear.

'Please, tell me she exists. I need one freaking shred of hope, just, just give me that' he said his grip around her shoulders tightening.

'I can't do that' she said trying to push him away. 'Let go of me' she said fiercely now also close to breaking.

Tristan gave up on getting answers from her; everything she had said seemed true, her eyes said it all. Maybe Lorelai Leigh Gilmore isn't real. Maybe there isn't anyone out there so pure, innocent, and so ironically real. Turning away from Paris he felt as though he were suffocating. 'I need to get out of here' he mumbled. Stumbling slightly he headed towards the exit.

'Where are you going?' Paris asked cautiously behind him. Ignoring her he violently pushed the doors open. 'Tristan' she called out. He stepped outside into the cool air and breathed in heavily. He felt lost. So fucking lost. Looking around the cold car park covered by the night sky, he spotted a single beat-up car, outside a single slightly slouched figure was stood there, cigarette between two fingers. The figure had dark hair, and was wearing baggy unkempt clothes. Intrigued and desperate for a drag, he approached him.

'Hey man, you got another one of those?' he asked his voice still not fully recovered from his previous incident. The dark haired guy looked up from where he was stood, slightly alarmed.

'Sure, but it's gonna cost you' he said chucking him a packet and a chipped lighter. Tristan caught it swiftly and then looked over at the boy.

'Just name your price' he said slightly uninterested.

The dark haired figure studied him suspiciously. He could tell a lot from the way he stood there a scowl plastered on his face. He probably didn't even notice he was frowning. There was something about his detachment and carelessness that engrossed him. It reminded him of himself in a way.

'My associate bailed on me, I need to run some 'errands' he said studying the blond. 'You in?'

Tristan shrugged, anything to get away from this fucking hell hole, taking a drag he spoke. 'I'm in'

Tossing his cigarette on the floor, the dark haired man approached the car, opened the door and stepped in. 'Good' he said slamming the door shut. Tristan followed his lead and sat on the other seat, he knew he was bordering on delirious but for that moment he didn't

'Tristan DuGrey' Tristan said attempting to introduce himself to the stranger who was now starting his car.

'Mariano' The man said glancing at him 'Jess Mariano'

_We will not be the last _

(Lyrics extracted from Bloc Party- Like Eating Glass)


	3. Chapter 3

Set around season 2, Jess at this time is screwed up. Thanks for all the reviews. Really appreciate the feedback.

'_I've been down and I'm wondering why these little black clouds keep walking around with me, with me'_

Tristan stared motionlessly out the window of the run down car as it sped along the highway. He hadn't exchanged words with the stranger seated beside him since they got in. The silence was comforting and much needed after the most intensely confusing conversation he had with Paris. He needed time to penetrate her words. Try to make sense of them. Every now and then he wished that there was a working radio in the car so he could turn the volume up high and drown out the sound of their voices. The moment would pass as soon as it came. Usually due to the question in his head that desperately needed answering. Is she real? Sure, he'd been given the answers several times over by several different people, but he couldn't believe them.

He was suddenly very grateful of the fact that the dark haired guy hadn't tried to make pointless small talk with him. He glanced at the figure. He didn't seem the type to. Too dark, too absorbed in his own problems, he was sure he had his own problems, he could tell by the defying look his violent face.

Subtly Tristan looked around the car for anything remotely interesting. His eyes caught onto a tattered copy of Ernst Hemmingway's, 'The Old Man and The Sea.' He remembered reading it for English lit. Although Mariano didn't seem like the reading type, Tristan thought the book suited him in a way, it was the sort of book that had a message, from how he interpreted it the message was saying that life is hard, but worth fighting for in most cases. Who was he to judge, he didn't even know him. He turned back to the window.

'So who or what are you running from DuGrey?' Jess asked unexpectedly.

Tristan glanced at him slightly startled but hiding it well.

'What are you talking about?' he questioned, knowing exactly what he was asking.

'The whole 'screw the world' attitude. Come on, do you usually take on dodgy jobs offered by complete strangers and before you ask, yeah, this job is most definitely dodgy.' He commented a smirk on his face.

'Why were you in the Chilton parking lot after midnight?' Tristan asked hostility evident in his voice. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated by someone he just met.

'Jeez, you gonna answer all my questions with questions?' Jess asked his eyes on the road.

'Are you?'

Jess rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he asked, the guys reaction was inevitable. He only pried because he was bored and needed something to keep him from falling asleep at the wheel. The last thing he needed was the cops on his back. He glanced at the guy who was now staring intently out the window watching the world go by. His story was probably the same as the rest of his 'type,' rich, pressured and bored. Maybe something bigger on the side.

'There was a girl…' the blond started as if reading his thoughts.

'There always is' Jess interrupted. He smirked to himself; he should have known it would be something like that. He knew how that went, how the right girl could screw anyone up, hell he'd been there. Tristan continued somewhat reluctantly.

'…She was different; this girl was so unlike the rest, you know? She was smart and funny.' A distant ghost like smile flitted across his face but disappeared as soon as it came. He's got it bad, Jess thought, catching the smile.

'Please warn me if you're gonna break out into song or something so I can kick your ass out onto the streets beforehand' Jess commented trying to make light of the situation. Tristan laughed the car then drifted back into silence. He needed to get the guy stoned; it would take his mind off whatever's eating him up. He wondered what happened to the girl.

'You said was, past tense. What happened to her? You break her heart pretty boy?' He asked light heartedly. Tristan sniggered much to Jess' confusion.

'Nah, this is way more screwed up than that, she was never my girlfriend, in fact she apparently doesn't exist.' Jess shot him a weird look before turning back to the road.

'What do you mean she doesn't exist? God, I hope you're not one of those'

'That's what I'm being told' he said ignoring his last comment. 'I supposedly made her up because my life's so screwed up and I needed a distraction' he said smiling bitterly. Jess shot him another look.

'Man, that is wrong on so many levels' He had more problems than he credited him for.

'You're telling me.'

'If it's any consolation you don't seem that much of a nut job to me, my mother on the other hand…' he drifted off. Tristan raised an eyebrow. Jess knew many people couldn't picture him with parents; he came off as seeming detached.

'Thanks man, I needed that.' He said after a minute.

'Huh. No problem.' Jess said nodding slightly. 'But hey, don't take my word for you, I've know you for what, less than a couple of hours.'

'Speaking of, why the hell are we in New York?' Tristan said becoming increasingly aware. They had reached there not long ago and it was only now hitting him.

'All in good time.' He said. 'There's a okay pub around here, we've got time to kill, wanna get pissed.'

'Hell yeah.' Tristan said suddenly feeling better. Nodding Jess sped up a destination now in mind. Things were about to get interesting.

'_Maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home. Maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home.'_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate. Also sorry I take so long to update. I didn't intend on carrying on with this but had a few new ideas. Some parts probably don't make sense but hope fully will tie in with the rest of the story later on.

Tristan sat on a stool near the bar, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass. The ambience was suffocating. There were hundreds of bright lights littered across the ceiling flickering in correlation to his head. He had hoped to stumble across a dilapidated run-down bar, instead he got this. This day was no doubt the most delirious day he had ever experienced. He couldn't describe it, anything. He felt restless and tired and jaded. Nothing made sense. Nothing. However despite his confusion, Tristan DuGrey felt something he hadn't commonly experienced, negligence.

'Stare any harder and you'll burn a hole straight through' a voice spoke pulling him out of thought. Tristan looked up to see pretty Korean girl staring back at him. Tristan studied her for a minute; she was wearing a stripy black and white top, her hair was untamed and she had a real smile on her face.

'My name's Lane Kim.'

'Pleasure to meet you.' He said grasping her hand and kissing the back of it.

The girl blushed sweetly, absently straightening her short black skirt. She then silently took a seat on the stool next to him, placing her stuff on the counter beside his drink.

'Anyway you're probably thinking I'm some sort of freak coming up here talking to a complete stranger but it's just that I noticed you looking upset and wanted to say that whatever it is that's bugging you will be okay…' she rambled on slightly nervous. Tristan smiled at her, she reminded him of someone.

'I appreciate your concern, thank you' he said genuinely, taking a sudden interest in the mysterious girl sat beside him. Lane looked at him relived.

'That's okay.' She then got up to retrieve her hand bag. Tristan watched her walk away.

'Wait, Lane…' he called. She stopped then turned around slowly unsure of herself. 'Do you wanna dance?' he asked suddenly slightly surprised at his own words. Lane blushed again unable to contain her smile.

'Hey Lane! We're on!' a voice echoed behind her. She silently cursed Brian for his bad timing.

'I would love to, but my band, Hep Alien, is going on right now' she said a hint of regret in her voice.

'Maybe some other time, oh and good luck' he said nodding towards the stage.

'Thanks' she smiled and walked quickly towards the gang. Just then he saw Jess approaching him, a look of anger on his face. Reaching the counter Tristan spotted a glimpse of a butt of a gun from in his jeans pocket.

'We've gotta get outta here. Now' he said looking around the club shiftily.

'What's going on?' Tristan asked frowning.

'I'll tell you outside' and with that Jess turned and cautiously strolled out of the bar not glancing back once. Shit. This can't be good, Tristan thought. He got up and noticing a plain envelope near to his glass he picked it up. It was Lane Kim's. He saw her drumming on stage and knew he couldn't give it to her at that moment. Groaning in frustration at the drastic change in events, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He'd find her and give it to her some other time.

Outside Tristan saw Jess smoking a cigarette in the dark near to his car. A wave of deja vu washed over him. 'What's going on?' Tristan repeated approaching him.

'It's been called off, we took too long.' He said pacing around, a scowl plastered on his face.

'Wait, what's been called off, what the hell are you talking about?' Tristan said growing rapidly annoyed with the lack of information Jess was revealing.

'I was meant to deliver a package. We took too long and they bailed, they're gonna be after us soon. These guys, you don't mess with people like them. We gotta get out of here.' Chucking the cigarette butt onto the ground he got into the car and Tristan followed, still unable to comprehend some of his words. He was apart of this. Why was apart of this. The car sped down the highway, the silence was deafening. After a while Jess flicked on the radio needing to kill all thought.

_Everything's so blurry  
and everyone's so fake  
and everybody's empty  
and everything is so messed up_

Tristan listened to the lyrics. The words ironically coincided with his feelings. Suddenly he remembered the envelope; digging into his pocket he found the crumpled paper. He caught a sideward glance Jess shot him.

'What is that thing?' he asked hoping to get his mind off other things.

'I don't know, I found it in the club. Think it belonged to some girl.' He said casually.

'If there's cash in there, I say we split it 50/50.'

'Yeah, right.' Tristan began opening it feeling slightly guilty. Inside there was written note. Reading the note his eyes widened and his heartbeat increased.

_-Mom_

_I'm sorry for turning into everything you always hated. Everything you still hate. I'm sorry for choosing the life you ran from and running from the world we built. The faker but less fake world, the world full of everything this one isn't. Years and years of attachment and love can't be erased in such a short period of estrangement. Please Forgive me. _

_-Rory. _

_Replies and feedback appreciated. _


End file.
